A/N: I already have most of this story planned out with a very possible Draco and Hermione pairing. Don't even try to change my mind.
Disclaimer: I hold nothing against Ms. Rowling. All of the characters (or at least most of them) featured in this fan fiction are owned by J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. And other people, whoever they are. If you wish to know who those other people are, go read someone else's disclaimer and they'll tell you. Do not sue me. I have no money and if you did sue, you would lose more money than I would. So ha.
Summary: On the eve of Christmas, the Granger family was attacked for unknown reasons and Hermione Granger lost her memory due to mental and physical trauma. The Grangers soon left England to America for safety and sanctuary. Hermione Granger has forgotten all of memories of her time in Hogwarts and the people she met there as well as the knowledge that magic exists. Nearly a decade later, a guilt ridden stranger from her past will reappear before her to remind her who she was along with a key to unlocking the missing seven years hidden deep in her mind.
Title: Amnesiac
Chapter One: Caller
Langley, Virginia USA
Central Intelligence Agency Headquarters
Doctor Hermione Granger flipped through the Triad file, codenamed HTR-18501A, frowned over terms made by previous profilers and skimmed through the list of head leaders in the New York City branch. All of which had been profiled based on Triad actions directed from them. As she fingered through the photographs of punishments the Triads doled out like candy, Hermione brought up the words she first thought of when she started profiling terrorist and crime syndicate organizations. Greed and power, the main motives for humans to kill and torture other humans. The prospect of favors from the higher men and money from bribes drove these people to do the most violent and selfish things.
Absolute loyalty. Brotherhood. Betrayal. All repeating. Only very few can stay loyal for long in any crime syndicate or terrorist ring. Bribes were as common as rats. Those who did join the Triads were often lost, wanting a place to belong to, to have someone tell you what to do. Others joined for the money, power and women, in that order. Drugs played a powerful part as well. Hermione snapped the file shut and tucked it away in a file cabinet with locks. Looking at the ugly way so many humans chose to live could make her sick sometimes. And feel pity for those who wanted out, but not without risking their lives.
"Hey, Granger." A man called out from leaning casually at her doorway. Damn you, Frank. Damn you. Please not today. Just not today, Hermione thought, gritting her teeth and clenching her eyes shut, willing that he was a sick figment of her imagination due to the lack of coffee in her system.
"How long you been here? Since ten?" No such luck. After silently damning Frank Cullen to hell and back and counting to ten, Hermione fixed a smile on her face that would have frightened a five year-old away and turned to Frank.
"Hello Frank. What brings you to my office?" Don't you dare say it was my stunning beauty.
"Oh, just the smell of that perfume of yours, knowing that it is distinctly you." A normal woman who didn't know Frank would have been flattered. But Hermione Granger was not normal, at least she liked to think she wasn't, and she knew Frank Cullen. "Hey, how about dinner to that new show in town?"
The last time she had agreed to dinner and a show with him, she had spent three hours being bored to death, though she had tried to appreciate the show, and Frank had tried to talk her to bed which she had narrowly escaped. She didn't care for a repeat of that night.
"That's very nice of you to think of me, Frank." She noticed he had done the trick with loosening his tie and unbuttoning the first few buttons on his shirt and mussing his hair to look more enticing. His hand was set up far against her door frame, making him seem taller. All of these efforts were wasted by the "Hey, I'm interested, lucky you" expression on his face. "I've got another appointment tonight." Not really an appointment, but she lied shamelessly only if it meant avoiding him.
"Well, then how about another night, say Tuesday-" At that moment, thankfully, her laptop bleeped out the "You've Got Mail" message along with the theme from Jaws that she had set at a weak moment. Quickly opening her email before Frank could recover, Hermione skimmed through the message.
To: Hermione Granger
From: hottygirl666
Subject: What's up, doc?
Hey Hermy! I know that nickname annoys hell and shit out of ya, but I only do it 'cause I luv ya. You can kill me at the July 4th party. What've ya been doin' that you've forgotten to call your own lonely cousin, huh? Catchin' more bad guys, checking out the hot agents over there in the CIA? Hell, I am soooo jealous of you. Damn, those agents are built. Remember when we were in that gym filled with guys and it turned out that the gym was CIA owned for field agents? HOLY SHIT, I'M GETTING ALL HOT AND BOTHERED JUST THINKING ABOUT IT. And you, you are so unaware of yourself, its not even funny. Half of those guys in there were staring at you while you're doin' all that karate shit. Now that I think of it, I hate you now. Anyway, we're going to have to meet somewhere so I can fix your hair again. A girl who don't take care of herself is a girl who don't know she's a girl. Or whatever the hell it is. CYA!
XXXOOO ;)
Trish :*0
P.S.- Oh, and what the hell is UP with that Frank dude?
P.P.S.- Girl, you seriously need to get laid. Just in case you haven't noticed.
At the mention of Trish, Hermione automatically saw a college student of twenty years endowed with a lush body and generous bosom. Trish had also been gifted with an easy and friendly way with people as well as an obsession with cosmetics and hair dyeing products. Rereading the last two lines, Hermione could only laugh at the irony of it. Clearing her throat to hide her laughter, Hermione glanced at her watch. 2:18 p.m. The clinic would be expecting her at 3:15, but she could go a little early.
"So what about-"
"Oh, sorry, Frank, but I just got an email from Trish, you know, my cousin. Says she needs to talk to me anytime soon this week and- well would you look at the time! Gotta go, Frank. Bye!"
Almost dashing out of her office, Hermione clutched her laptop and briefcase to her chest and ran into the elevator, leaving Frank in shock again. Once she was safely inside the elevator, Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. Hopefully, she could avoid him for the next few days. Righting herself quickly before the elevator reached the main floor, Hermione Granger was seen striding calmly through the lobby of the Central Intelligence Agency's Headquarters and slipping into a small spiffy BMW convertible.
Once inside the cool atmosphere of her car, Hermione turned the radio to a rock station and zoomed out of the parking lot at a speed that the local authorities would have frowned rather severely upon. Not actually caring about the speed limits, Hermione happily hummed in tune with Metallica and wove through the afternoon traffic that would have had a pro race car driver nodding in approval. Soon, Hermione stopped at the clinic where she treated mental patients free of charge.
The cool air coming from the clinic air conditioner was a far cry from the sweltering heat of June. Checking her watch again, Hermione greeted the receptionist, Mary, a young newlywed and mother.
"Oh, hello, Hermione. You're a bit early today, aren't you?" Mary said, looking at the clock on the white plaster wall.
"Yes. Sooner the better. More time with patients. How's Matt? He'll be six months next week, won't he?"
"Yes," Mary replied, glowing and happy that Hermione had remembered. "Six months on the dot on Thursday! Oh, it seems such a long time ago when he was still inside me. I'm starting to teach him how to talk."
"That's wonderful. Give him a kiss for me to the little champ. By the way, has the Monroe's been in yet?"
"Oh, I nearly forgot! Yes, they came in a little while ago before you did. They're waiting for you in your office."
"Thanks, Mary. Take care." Hermione was already striding away when Mary answered.
"You too." Mary watched Hermione walk, admiring her wardrobe and figure. God only knew how that woman could maintain such a willowy body as well as juggle a stressful career. It was common knowledge among all that Hermione had no lovers or boyfriends when she attracted men to her like a bee to a hive. Hermione Granger was attractive, some may consider her even beautiful, what with those killer cheekbones and naturally arched eyebrows. Tall, she was, near 5'10 without heels at a guess and long colorful brown hair tied back more for convenience in the practical doctor's mind than vanity. Mary sighed in envy. And God only knew why Hermione Granger was so unaware of herself.
Unaware of Mary's thoughts, Hermione took the elevator up and shifted her mind back to the Monroe patient, Carrie Monroe. As always, she felt a weight come down on her heart as she thought of Carrie. A sixteen year old girl shouldn't be clinically depressed, but be out over a friend's house, giggling over boys and the new Cosmopolitan magazines, not attempting suicide two months ago. It could only be a miracle her mother found her before Carrie would have ended up in residence of a morgue. They had started counseling and therapy immediately after the incident, asking for the best doctors and therapists available. And of course, Dr. Hermione Granger was brought up to the subject.
Stepping out of the elevator when it reached her floor, Hermione recalled that the mother had been reluctant about doctors. In fact, both Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Monroe hadn't liked the idea of their daughter going to a shrink. Both were people who liked keeping up appearances and having their daughter going to a 'mind doctor' as if she was mentally unstable didn't seem to meet their standards as socially acceptable. Idiots.
Opening the door of her office, Hermione saw that indeed, they were all there. Both parents had pained looks on their faces and Carrie was sitting in the chair, hands in lap and eyes on shoes. Her hair was tied back, doubtless by her mother. Appearances again. Always keeping up appearances.
"Good afternoon. I'm glad to see we're all here together. Hello, Carrie."
"Hi," was the soft answer. Hermione noted that the parents looked even more pained now.
She could feel the beginning of a headache sneaking up on her. Setting her laptop and briefcase on the floor by her desk, she took out Carrie's file from the file cabinet by the wall. Placing it on her desk, Hermione took out her glasses, new, and perched them on her the bridge of her nose.
The silence in the room was near deafening.
"So how are we today?"
One hour later
It was a disaster. The weekly family meeting session was a disaster. There was no other word for it. Hermione wished desperately for aspirin, anything to prevent the headache that was soon going to turn into a migraine. Rubbing the tips of her fingers to her temples fiercely, she replayed the entire episode. They had been doing fine until the mother started asking about how much longer until their daughter would be free of counseling. Carrie had done pretty much nothing. Quiet, as always. Uncaring of what happened in the world around her. The father had started an argument with the mother and the entire harmony of the meeting just collapsed around her ears.
The headache got worse.
And cruelly, the phone started to ring. Please, God Almighty, please. Just go away. Far away. Don't call me. Not right now… Whoever the hell it is, GO AWAY. But whoever was calling refused to give up. After what seemed like the fifteenth ring, Hermione sighed miserably and picked up the phone.
"Hello, Dr. Granger speaking."
There was a pause.
"Hello? Anyone there?" She heard a throat clear.
"This is Dr. Hermione Granger speaking?" The voice was male, deep and arrogant yet unfamiliar… yet, she was sure she had heard it before. Something in the back of her mind moved, trying to bring back the memory.
"Yes, this is Dr. Hermione Granger. How can I help you?"
"I'd like to ask you a few questions, doctor. I was hoping you would oblige me." His voice had an English hint, faint but it was there.
"All right, then. Go ahead."
"How do you identify the words 'mentally ill', doctor?" At that, Hermione stiffened.
"That term is highly theoretical. It is only meant to generalize a certain group that can or can not coexist with other people, all depending on each of their own condition. What purpose does it serve you to know this?"
"That I will not answer. Enlighten me. What do you consider insanity to be?"
"Insanity is a legal term. Like mentally ill, it only generalizes a certain group of people." She heard him laugh softly. "So even you can't draw the line between sanity and insanity. Each one of us must draw that line for our own boundaries. No one can judge you only yourself."
"May I ask who this is?" She felt him hesitate before he answered.
"You once knew me as Draco Malfoy." The line clicked off, dead. Hermione didn't hear it though; there was a roaring in her ears, in her head as scenes, pictures, memories all flitted across her. The phone slipped through her nerveless finders and crashed on to the floor and she still didn't hear it as the roaring became louder and louder. Hermione jerked her hands to her eyes and head, covering them as if to defend herself from the onslaught of unknown memories.
And deep within herself, she saw a young man turning around to face her. His platinum blond hair swept back to show his pale face. His eyes were stormy grey, cold, barren and merciless, fixed hers. Compelling eyes. Piercing, as if they could see into her thoughts, her heart, her soul. His mouth twisted into a sneer and deep inside her mind, she knew his name was Draco Malfoy.
Disclaimer: I hold nothing against Ms. Rowling. All of the characters (or at least most of them) featured in this fan fiction are owned by J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. And other people, whoever they are. If you wish to know who those other people are, go read someone else's disclaimer and they'll tell you. Do not sue me. I have no money and if you did sue, you would lose more money than I would. So ha.
Summary: On the eve of Christmas, the Granger family was attacked for unknown reasons and Hermione Granger lost her memory due to mental and physical trauma. The Grangers soon left England to America for safety and sanctuary. Hermione Granger has forgotten all of memories of her time in Hogwarts and the people she met there as well as the knowledge that magic exists. Nearly a decade later, a guilt ridden stranger from her past will reappear before her to remind her who she was along with a key to unlocking the missing seven years hidden deep in her mind.
Title: Amnesiac
Chapter One: Caller
Langley, Virginia USA
Central Intelligence Agency Headquarters
Doctor Hermione Granger flipped through the Triad file, codenamed HTR-18501A, frowned over terms made by previous profilers and skimmed through the list of head leaders in the New York City branch. All of which had been profiled based on Triad actions directed from them. As she fingered through the photographs of punishments the Triads doled out like candy, Hermione brought up the words she first thought of when she started profiling terrorist and crime syndicate organizations. Greed and power, the main motives for humans to kill and torture other humans. The prospect of favors from the higher men and money from bribes drove these people to do the most violent and selfish things.
Absolute loyalty. Brotherhood. Betrayal. All repeating. Only very few can stay loyal for long in any crime syndicate or terrorist ring. Bribes were as common as rats. Those who did join the Triads were often lost, wanting a place to belong to, to have someone tell you what to do. Others joined for the money, power and women, in that order. Drugs played a powerful part as well. Hermione snapped the file shut and tucked it away in a file cabinet with locks. Looking at the ugly way so many humans chose to live could make her sick sometimes. And feel pity for those who wanted out, but not without risking their lives.
"Hey, Granger." A man called out from leaning casually at her doorway. Damn you, Frank. Damn you. Please not today. Just not today, Hermione thought, gritting her teeth and clenching her eyes shut, willing that he was a sick figment of her imagination due to the lack of coffee in her system.
"How long you been here? Since ten?" No such luck. After silently damning Frank Cullen to hell and back and counting to ten, Hermione fixed a smile on her face that would have frightened a five year-old away and turned to Frank.
"Hello Frank. What brings you to my office?" Don't you dare say it was my stunning beauty.
"Oh, just the smell of that perfume of yours, knowing that it is distinctly you." A normal woman who didn't know Frank would have been flattered. But Hermione Granger was not normal, at least she liked to think she wasn't, and she knew Frank Cullen. "Hey, how about dinner to that new show in town?"
The last time she had agreed to dinner and a show with him, she had spent three hours being bored to death, though she had tried to appreciate the show, and Frank had tried to talk her to bed which she had narrowly escaped. She didn't care for a repeat of that night.
"That's very nice of you to think of me, Frank." She noticed he had done the trick with loosening his tie and unbuttoning the first few buttons on his shirt and mussing his hair to look more enticing. His hand was set up far against her door frame, making him seem taller. All of these efforts were wasted by the "Hey, I'm interested, lucky you" expression on his face. "I've got another appointment tonight." Not really an appointment, but she lied shamelessly only if it meant avoiding him.
"Well, then how about another night, say Tuesday-" At that moment, thankfully, her laptop bleeped out the "You've Got Mail" message along with the theme from Jaws that she had set at a weak moment. Quickly opening her email before Frank could recover, Hermione skimmed through the message.
To: Hermione Granger
From: hottygirl666
Subject: What's up, doc?
Hey Hermy! I know that nickname annoys hell and shit out of ya, but I only do it 'cause I luv ya. You can kill me at the July 4th party. What've ya been doin' that you've forgotten to call your own lonely cousin, huh? Catchin' more bad guys, checking out the hot agents over there in the CIA? Hell, I am soooo jealous of you. Damn, those agents are built. Remember when we were in that gym filled with guys and it turned out that the gym was CIA owned for field agents? HOLY SHIT, I'M GETTING ALL HOT AND BOTHERED JUST THINKING ABOUT IT. And you, you are so unaware of yourself, its not even funny. Half of those guys in there were staring at you while you're doin' all that karate shit. Now that I think of it, I hate you now. Anyway, we're going to have to meet somewhere so I can fix your hair again. A girl who don't take care of herself is a girl who don't know she's a girl. Or whatever the hell it is. CYA!
XXXOOO ;)
Trish :*0
P.S.- Oh, and what the hell is UP with that Frank dude?
P.P.S.- Girl, you seriously need to get laid. Just in case you haven't noticed.
At the mention of Trish, Hermione automatically saw a college student of twenty years endowed with a lush body and generous bosom. Trish had also been gifted with an easy and friendly way with people as well as an obsession with cosmetics and hair dyeing products. Rereading the last two lines, Hermione could only laugh at the irony of it. Clearing her throat to hide her laughter, Hermione glanced at her watch. 2:18 p.m. The clinic would be expecting her at 3:15, but she could go a little early.
"So what about-"
"Oh, sorry, Frank, but I just got an email from Trish, you know, my cousin. Says she needs to talk to me anytime soon this week and- well would you look at the time! Gotta go, Frank. Bye!"
Almost dashing out of her office, Hermione clutched her laptop and briefcase to her chest and ran into the elevator, leaving Frank in shock again. Once she was safely inside the elevator, Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. Hopefully, she could avoid him for the next few days. Righting herself quickly before the elevator reached the main floor, Hermione Granger was seen striding calmly through the lobby of the Central Intelligence Agency's Headquarters and slipping into a small spiffy BMW convertible.
Once inside the cool atmosphere of her car, Hermione turned the radio to a rock station and zoomed out of the parking lot at a speed that the local authorities would have frowned rather severely upon. Not actually caring about the speed limits, Hermione happily hummed in tune with Metallica and wove through the afternoon traffic that would have had a pro race car driver nodding in approval. Soon, Hermione stopped at the clinic where she treated mental patients free of charge.
The cool air coming from the clinic air conditioner was a far cry from the sweltering heat of June. Checking her watch again, Hermione greeted the receptionist, Mary, a young newlywed and mother.
"Oh, hello, Hermione. You're a bit early today, aren't you?" Mary said, looking at the clock on the white plaster wall.
"Yes. Sooner the better. More time with patients. How's Matt? He'll be six months next week, won't he?"
"Yes," Mary replied, glowing and happy that Hermione had remembered. "Six months on the dot on Thursday! Oh, it seems such a long time ago when he was still inside me. I'm starting to teach him how to talk."
"That's wonderful. Give him a kiss for me to the little champ. By the way, has the Monroe's been in yet?"
"Oh, I nearly forgot! Yes, they came in a little while ago before you did. They're waiting for you in your office."
"Thanks, Mary. Take care." Hermione was already striding away when Mary answered.
"You too." Mary watched Hermione walk, admiring her wardrobe and figure. God only knew how that woman could maintain such a willowy body as well as juggle a stressful career. It was common knowledge among all that Hermione had no lovers or boyfriends when she attracted men to her like a bee to a hive. Hermione Granger was attractive, some may consider her even beautiful, what with those killer cheekbones and naturally arched eyebrows. Tall, she was, near 5'10 without heels at a guess and long colorful brown hair tied back more for convenience in the practical doctor's mind than vanity. Mary sighed in envy. And God only knew why Hermione Granger was so unaware of herself.
Unaware of Mary's thoughts, Hermione took the elevator up and shifted her mind back to the Monroe patient, Carrie Monroe. As always, she felt a weight come down on her heart as she thought of Carrie. A sixteen year old girl shouldn't be clinically depressed, but be out over a friend's house, giggling over boys and the new Cosmopolitan magazines, not attempting suicide two months ago. It could only be a miracle her mother found her before Carrie would have ended up in residence of a morgue. They had started counseling and therapy immediately after the incident, asking for the best doctors and therapists available. And of course, Dr. Hermione Granger was brought up to the subject.
Stepping out of the elevator when it reached her floor, Hermione recalled that the mother had been reluctant about doctors. In fact, both Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Monroe hadn't liked the idea of their daughter going to a shrink. Both were people who liked keeping up appearances and having their daughter going to a 'mind doctor' as if she was mentally unstable didn't seem to meet their standards as socially acceptable. Idiots.
Opening the door of her office, Hermione saw that indeed, they were all there. Both parents had pained looks on their faces and Carrie was sitting in the chair, hands in lap and eyes on shoes. Her hair was tied back, doubtless by her mother. Appearances again. Always keeping up appearances.
"Good afternoon. I'm glad to see we're all here together. Hello, Carrie."
"Hi," was the soft answer. Hermione noted that the parents looked even more pained now.
She could feel the beginning of a headache sneaking up on her. Setting her laptop and briefcase on the floor by her desk, she took out Carrie's file from the file cabinet by the wall. Placing it on her desk, Hermione took out her glasses, new, and perched them on her the bridge of her nose.
The silence in the room was near deafening.
"So how are we today?"
One hour later
It was a disaster. The weekly family meeting session was a disaster. There was no other word for it. Hermione wished desperately for aspirin, anything to prevent the headache that was soon going to turn into a migraine. Rubbing the tips of her fingers to her temples fiercely, she replayed the entire episode. They had been doing fine until the mother started asking about how much longer until their daughter would be free of counseling. Carrie had done pretty much nothing. Quiet, as always. Uncaring of what happened in the world around her. The father had started an argument with the mother and the entire harmony of the meeting just collapsed around her ears.
The headache got worse.
And cruelly, the phone started to ring. Please, God Almighty, please. Just go away. Far away. Don't call me. Not right now… Whoever the hell it is, GO AWAY. But whoever was calling refused to give up. After what seemed like the fifteenth ring, Hermione sighed miserably and picked up the phone.
"Hello, Dr. Granger speaking."
There was a pause.
"Hello? Anyone there?" She heard a throat clear.
"This is Dr. Hermione Granger speaking?" The voice was male, deep and arrogant yet unfamiliar… yet, she was sure she had heard it before. Something in the back of her mind moved, trying to bring back the memory.
"Yes, this is Dr. Hermione Granger. How can I help you?"
"I'd like to ask you a few questions, doctor. I was hoping you would oblige me." His voice had an English hint, faint but it was there.
"All right, then. Go ahead."
"How do you identify the words 'mentally ill', doctor?" At that, Hermione stiffened.
"That term is highly theoretical. It is only meant to generalize a certain group that can or can not coexist with other people, all depending on each of their own condition. What purpose does it serve you to know this?"
"That I will not answer. Enlighten me. What do you consider insanity to be?"
"Insanity is a legal term. Like mentally ill, it only generalizes a certain group of people." She heard him laugh softly. "So even you can't draw the line between sanity and insanity. Each one of us must draw that line for our own boundaries. No one can judge you only yourself."
"May I ask who this is?" She felt him hesitate before he answered.
"You once knew me as Draco Malfoy." The line clicked off, dead. Hermione didn't hear it though; there was a roaring in her ears, in her head as scenes, pictures, memories all flitted across her. The phone slipped through her nerveless finders and crashed on to the floor and she still didn't hear it as the roaring became louder and louder. Hermione jerked her hands to her eyes and head, covering them as if to defend herself from the onslaught of unknown memories.
And deep within herself, she saw a young man turning around to face her. His platinum blond hair swept back to show his pale face. His eyes were stormy grey, cold, barren and merciless, fixed hers. Compelling eyes. Piercing, as if they could see into her thoughts, her heart, her soul. His mouth twisted into a sneer and deep inside her mind, she knew his name was Draco Malfoy.